Seanan McGuire - An Artificial Night

“So now what?” asked May, as she stepped back.

I picked up a slice of bread, eyeing the cold cuts for a moment before starting to slap a sandwich together. “I’m going to eat this, check in with Sylvester, and—”

“She’s going back to my grandfather’s lands.”

The voice was unfortunately familiar. I stiffened, sandwich forgotten as I turned to face the woman standing in the antechamber doorway. “Rayseline.”

“October,” she replied, almost mockingly. “You’re secretly a cockroach, aren’t you? Don’t worry, you can tell me. It won’t make me think any less of you. Really, I don’t think that anything could.”

“I’m not a cockroach, I’m just hard to kill,” I said, putting my half-assembled sandwich back on the table. “Can I help you with something?”

“Just wanted a look at the dead woman walking,” she said, and smiled.

Rayseline Torquill would have been scary no matter who she was, and what I’d learned about Luna’s side of the family didn’t do anything to make her less unnerving. It didn’t help that she looked more like her father than her mother, with the Torquill family’s characteristic fox-red hair and honey-colored eyes. With her porcelain complexion and delicate features, she projected the illusion of perfect, unquestionable purity and goodness. At least until she opened her mouth.

“Toby?” said May, uncertainly. “She doesn’t really mean that, does she?”

I wanted to tell her no, but I wasn’t sure that I could lie to my Fetch and make her believe it. I shook my head instead, and Rayseline laughed, sounding utterly delighted.

“Look at that! She can’t even admit to it!” She took a step forward, chin dropped so that she was looking at me from beneath lowered brows. She looked like a predator. “He’s got claws in her. He’s got hands on her. She’s going back.”

“Toby …”

“He kept my knife,” I said, as reasonably as I could. “Dare gave me that knife. He doesn’t get to keep my knife.”

“There are other knives.” May grabbed my arm,jerking me a step to the left. Spike rattled in protest, but didn’t remove its claws from my shoulder. “There are entire stores that sell just knives. We’ll get you a new knife.”

“Oh, this isn’t about knives, is it, October?” Raysel kept smiling. “My husband cried himself to sleep whispering your name. I hope you die screaming. Better yet, I hope you live that way.”

“Toby, don’t be stupid. I already broke the rules to save your life. I can’t do it again.”

“Gosh, little Fetch, did you really?” Raysel’s attention swung toward May. “My grandfather takes his time breaking things. Maybe you just didn’t want to wait around.”

May gasped. Pleasantly, I said, “Raysel, if you don’t get out of here, I’m going to punch you in the face.”

A brief spasm of rage twisted Raysel’s features before smoothing back into her predatory smile. “I should kill you right here, but I won’t,” she said. “What’s ahead will hurt you ever so much worse.” She turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, leaving us to stare after her.

Voice shaking, May said, “She’s wrong, isn’t she? You’re not going back.”

“I have to. He’s in my head, May.” I turned toward her. Her face was still the twin of mine, but it wasn’t a mirror anymore; she’d had weeks to make it her own. She looked worried, frightened, and like herself. That was reassuring. At least she’d had a chance to have a life. “I can feel him. I can almost hear him, sometimes. I don’t think I can get away from him without facing him.”

“That’s stupid. It’s stupid, and it’s suicidal, and I won’t let you.”

“I don’t think you get a say, hon,” I said, gently removing her fingers from my arm. She didn’t fight me. She just stood there, watching bleakly, as I took Spike from my shoulder, set it down on the floor, and turned to walk out of the room. She didn’t follow.

Spike did. I walked about halfway down the hall, the sound of its claws always clicking a few feet behind me on the marble floor. Finally, I turned to look at it. It promptly sat down, watching me with lambent, narrowed eyes.

“You’re not coming,” I said.

It stood and walked forward, sitting down right next to my feet.

“You’re not coming. It’s not safe.”

The look it gave me was almost disgusted. If you’re going, said the look, I can go, too.

I sighed. “Fine, Spike, whatever you want.” I started walking again, steps accompanied by the soft click-click-click of the goblin’s claws, and tried to hide how pleased I was. I trusted Spike to be safe, and I really hadn’t wanted to go alone. There are a lot of ways to die and alone has always seemed like one of the worst. Almost anything else would be better.

We made it out of the knowe and back into the mortal world without seeing anyone else. The door in the oak slammed shut behind us with a hollow finality, and I stopped, staring blankly out across the hillside.

The others might think they’d saved me, but I knew all the way down to my bones that they hadn’t. Blind Michael had me too long for that sort of salvation to work. Part of me was his—might always be his, no matter what happened next—and if he was allowed to live, that part would just keep trying to find a way to drag me back to him. I could pretend that nothing was wrong, or I could admit that nothing was right and try to do something about it.

Blind Michael was a monster, and he’d been allowed to go unchallenged for too long. How many kids had he taken and twisted over the centuries? Hundreds? Thousands? Faerie prizes children above almost everything else, and still no one had dared to try stopping him—not since the Luidaeg tried, and failed. Someone had to do it. Someone should have done it a long time ago.

I just wished it didn’t have to be me.

There was no warning before the hand dropped onto my shoulder. I stiffened, ready to run, until Sylvester said, “I know where you’re going, October.”

I turned to look up at him. “How long have you been out here?” I hadn’t seen him until he moved. For someone with such red hair, he could blend astonishingly well.

“Since Luna told me they’d brought you home.”

“I’ve been just inside. Why did you come wait out here?”

“Because I know you better than you think I do.” He sighed, looking deeply weary. “I know the rest of this conversation. You apologize, I tell you it’s all right. You tell me you’re going back to Blind Michael’s lands and say I can’t stop you. Does that sound about right?”

“Yes …”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying to stop you.”

Okay: that was something I hadn’t expected to hear. I stared at him, and he smiled. I wanted to ask why he wouldn’t try to stop me, but I couldn’t find any words. Not a single one.

“I know you too well, Toby,” he said, still smiling. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t, believe me. I’d love to have some illusions to cling to—but I don’t anymore. I just know you too well.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be. I went off to play the hero myself, once. I’d do it again, if I had to.” His smile turned wistful. “I’d do it all again, and I’d do it differently. When certain people wanted to walk away, well … it would be different. But we can’t change the past, and now I get to watch you ride away. I saw you born. I watched you grow from a confused little girl into one of my finest knights. I shouldn’t have to see you die.”

I closed my eyes, shuddering. He wasn’t trying to talk me out of it, and somehow, that made it worse. “I’m sorry. But this is important.”